Poison & Wine
by caskett-case
Summary: "It's then that Belle realizes that it's never been about her fighting for him or he fighting for her individually—just like it's never been about them fighting with each other. It has been—and always will be—Rumple and Belle fighting for each other." Picks up where 3x20 left off. Belle finds out about the dagger and the conflict that ensues. Rated T for language.
1. Chapter One

_A/N: It's been awhile since I've done fanfiction of any sort but once my friend got me watching Once Upon a Time, and I started to fall in love with these cuties who are in love with each other, I knew I'd be coming back at some point. And last night's episode was enough for me to crack. This is going to be multi-chap, so by next week, it will probably be AU, but this is what I would like to see happen, and there's going to be angst and fluff and more importantly, more Rumbelle-centric than the show could ever possibly be because... But ahh, that's another story. We can talk about my frustration with the lack of on-screen Rumbelle another time. _

_The basis for the fic (kind of) is "Poison and Wine" by the Civil Wars, because this song will always be a Rumbelle anthem but my goodness is it so freaking applicable right now. _

_Disclaimer: I don't own them. Or much of anything because I'm a poor college student._

* * *

Chapter One

_You only know what I want you to-_  
_I know everything you don't want me to._

He's trying so hard to rationalize what he's done. Rumple loves her—he truly, deeply loves Belle. He gave her the dagger, the real dagger. He wants her to have his whole heart and his whole self. Her love has changed him, but how could he possibly let Zelena get away with this? He promised Bae, promised that his death would not be vain.

Belle was giggling and clutching tightly to him the whole walk home and though he tried his hardest to just be and enjoy the fact that she was his for all eternity—this beautiful, hopeful ray of light amidst all his darkness, he was so incredibly sullen on the inside. And yet he was so genuinely thrilled, but so much of that joy was overshadowed by the nibbling deep down in his heart of what he planned to do. So when he kissed her lips gently one last time before she heads off to their room to sleep (she begs him to join her, and he's dying to—but he would never forgive himself if their first time was surrounded with so much deceit), he tells her, "I love you so much. Don't ever forget that." She looked up at him with those intense, curious blue eyes and quirked an eyebrow.

"Rumple, you've been a gentleman about this for so long, but we're engaged now. I hardly see the—''

"I want it to be special," he whispers, and he wishes this was under different circumstances, because he's really not lying now. He wants this to be special for them.

She sighs, a little frustrated.

"You're not going to break me."

He swears he feels his heart actually tear inside his chest at that. She has no idea.

"I want to do this properly—like how its done where we're really from. Our wedding night."

She leans in close, gives him a saucy smile and responds, "Well then let's make for a quick engagement, shall we?"

He gives her that sexy smirk and then a peck on the forehead before turning around and letting her go off to bed—and damn it if we wouldn't have taken her right against the refrigerator if he didn't have the crushing weight of guilt nailing him to the ground.

He removes the dagger from her purse after he's sure that she's sound asleep, all content and adorable as she's curled in a ball, surrounded by fluffy pillows—two supporting her head and another one that she's holding tightly next to her—no doubt something she did every night while he was gone. His heart breaks a little bit more, and he almost considers not going through with it until he leaves the bedroom and conjures the imitation dagger to replace his real one. His resolve strengthens as he steps out the door and approaches his black Cadillac. Zelena had to die. Rumplestiltskin never broke a deal, and he wasn't going back on the final promise he made to his son.

She didn't have her powers now but who knew what she could do in the future. He couldn't take the risk. She needed to pay for killing Baelfire and every heartache she caused thereafter. For the year he spent locked in a cage, forced to be her pet as she desperately tried to seduce him and abuse the dagger's power. For the pain she caused him to cause Belle. For the security in knowing that she could never, ever hurt Belle again if she's dead—whether or not Belle can forgive him for breaking his promise to her, he has to keep her safe.

And when he walks out of Zelena's cell, the clattering of the pieces of her flesh-turned-ceramic body still fresh in his ears, he expects to feel relieved.

Instead, he runs outside and vomits in the alleyway.

There's no going back now. He avenged Baelfire's death, but that doesn't change the fact that he's gone. And now he's in danger of losing the person his heart belongs to. The only person outside of Bae that his heart has ever belonged to.

But villains don't get happy endings.

* * *

As he quietly shuts the door behind him to the sound of small squeaks in the hinges, his heart starts pounding out-of-control. He sees a book laid open-faced on the coffee table as he walks into the living room, his chest growing tighter as he averts his gaze to the cup next to it—her cup. Their cup. She must had been admiring it earlier, and he can see a vision of his darling Belle now—marveling over how strong their love has been. It's still going so strong, even with a few chips. And it is then that the terrible Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, is reduced to a guilt-ridden, sobbing shell of a man.

He's dry heaving and clutching at the carpet as he falls to his knees and wishes he had the heart to just whip the cup at the wall and shatter it once and for all. He's in too deep. He thought he was making the right choice. But no. He was just vengeful.

He just wanted to take the easy way out and not let Zelena have her second chance.

He was a _coward._ Always and forever a coward.

Tears continue to pool in his eyes until he can't see straight and his breath catches and—

"Rumple?"

He draws in a breath that's something between a gasp and having the wind knocked straight of him. He cowers lower and slowly cricks his neck around to see Belle hovering near the couch. He doesn't know how much she saw, but she's standing there all sleepy and concerned in an oversized "Storybrooke High Wizards" t shirt and flannel pajama pants, and he's so in love with her and so guilty-looking and so fucked up.

He looks like a scared, wild animal and it's all she can do not to run to him. There's something stopping her. Something in his eyes that gives away that something is terribly wrong.

_Oh gods. _

That's when all trace of sleepiness leaves her body, and she sees the dagger, flung onto the carpet next to him, and instead of running to him, she fumbles over to her red bag that she's left on the counter, procuring the fake dagger, staring at it, and then alternating to stare back at him. Her hand holding the knife shakes, and it drops to the ground. She huffs out several breaths, and her eyes go wide, searching around the room, searching him, desperately trying to find some answer that tells her not to expect the worst, that this isn't what it looks like at all. The room feels like its spinning, and she barely hears him as he chokes out,

"I only wanted to protect you and Bae."

She shudders, and she has no idea how her knees haven't given out yet.

"Rumple," she strains.

"What have you done?"

* * *

_A/N: Yeah, so I just really wanted to get inside Rumple's head for no other reason than I needed to make sense of the episode last night. Also, depending on the response to this first chapter, I'm totally willing to get the next one up ASAP. It's finals week here for me, but honestly, Rumbelle writing study breaks would be fabulous. Soooo... reviews? _


	2. Chapter Two

_A/N: Well, blew through this puppy in no time. Here, have another chapter, guys! I'll start tackling everyone else's reactions to Rumple killing Zelena and the whole time portal doo-hickey thing in the next chapter, but until then, this one's more Rumbelle (which I'm sure no one is complaining about). Appreciating all the comments so far, guys. Y'all brighten my day._

* * *

Chapter Two

_I know everything you don't want me to._

He just keeps repeating those words.

"I just wanted to protect you. Just wanted to protect you and Bae."

She just stares at him, breathing heavily, eyes wild and fearful.

"I can't lose you again, Belle… Can't lose you."

They're both sobbing now, and suddenly he's up and hovering toward her, moving ever so carefully, as if now she is the frightened animal. He's scared her enough already. Rumple extends his arm toward her and coaxes her near him, and for a split second she considers falling into him and dealing with the consequences later. But instead she jerks back, fresh tears leaving tracks on her cheeks now.

She raises a finger at him and harshly half-whispers, "Do not touch me."

She's back-pedaling toward the kitchen now, just trying to create some distance. She can't be near him, won't be near him.

"Belle...," he breathes.

She just shakes her head violently as sobs continue to wrack her body, as if the effect of every time he's ever hurt her is finally bubbling to the surface. Any feelings she's suppressed are now flowing freely onto her cheeks, down her neck, staining her blouse. She's so broken. He's so battered. They're a mess. An absolute mess.

"What did you do?" she repeats with more ferocity this time.

There's terror, remorse, and so much guilt in those brown eyes, and she closes her eyes to try to steady herself. He tries to speak, but the words are dying one by one on his lips.

"Did you kill her?" she chokes.

He presses his eyes shut and hangs his head as she opens hers to his confirmation.

"I had to," he mumbles.

She's sobbing again, harder this time—can't tell if she's angrier that he did the one thing he told her not to or if he offered a fake dagger to her as a proposal. And as if he can read her mind, he continues,

"I didn't originally give you a fake."

She sets her jaw and just gives him an empty stare, desperate to remain calm as he explains.

"What I gave you was the real thing. I do want you to have it, Belle. I do. But still, I knew I had to go after her. So when you fell asleep, I grabbed the dagger and went to her cell…"

He trails off. She knows how the story ends, and he doesn't want to speak it. Doesn't really know if he can.

_Coward,_ he thinks.

But whether or not he finishes the story is irrelevant because she's already cutting him off and near-shouting back, "And did the one thing I asked you not to."

There's fire in her eyes now, and its mixing with the blue that has suddenly become very cold and uninviting. She steels herself and continues.

"How could you? You offer me your heart, your forever, and you had to do this. You gave me the dagger only to take it right back. That's not how this works. I trust you with my whole heart. I know that there is good in you, and I want so badly for you to see it too."

Her eyes soften, anger and passion dissolving to melancholy and hurt and betrayal.

"But I can't make you see it," she whispers.

He aches all over. His stomach feels like it has dropped so far that there could actually be a visible change in his physical appearance right now. He certainly would deserve it, and it wouldn't be the first time—a physical manifestation for his wicked ways.

"She killed my son," he grits out.

"And I understand that, but do you really think Neal would have wanted you to go after her? I know you said you made a promise to avenge his death, but that doesn't mean that he wanted you to. He wanted you to be happy, and this doesn't feel like happiness at all."

His eyes slip shut. He's resigned. He's a damn fool. He'll never change, never redeem himself. He's stuck in his patterns forever.

And then he hears something that pulls the trigger of the deep-feeling beast:

"Do you even love me?"

Her voice is cracked, and her eyes are shining with unshed tears again. It's not a question she wants to ask, not a question she really thinks she needs to ask because she knows deep down that he cares for her deeply. But she needs reassurance because her life has done nothing but flips and turns ever since he walked into it.

There's anguish in his scrunched face as he yells, "How could you even say that?"

But his brave little Belle isn't going to back down.

"Because lying to me isn't exactly the way to charm your _fiancé."_

She almost seems to spit the word out like its poison.

He would almost rather her put the dagger through his heart instead of going on like this.

"Because I just want to know that you're going to be honest with me. Because you are the only man I have ever truly been in love with, and the only one I ever will. Because I have never given up on you, even when my own father thought I was crazy and thought you had coerced me into thinking I loved you. Because up until this moment, I have never lost faith in you."

He almost whimpers out his next words, knowing they sound so pathetic and cheap and he doesn't even expect her to believe them, even though he still believes them with all that's good in his darkened heart.

"You're my true love, Belle. I do love you. I truly do want to be with you. Forever. And I want to believe that you can love me."

Her face twists in sadness, as she parrots her words from the previous day.

"Always have."

He knows that this is bigger than any fight they've ever had—bigger than any quibble over his deals back in the Dark Castle, bigger than when he let her go the first time because he didn't think she could ever love him (he's still not over that hill, over three decades later, and he's beating himself up for it now), bigger than any time after that.

"Why couldn't you just believe in our love?" she asks with the most despondent look he has ever seen on her face.

He hesitates and then just lets go everything that is flowing to his mind.

"She locked me in a cage for a year. She kept me away from you. I couldn't even be there to bury my own son. Do you understand what that was like? Do you have any idea the pain she caused me? Trying to coerce me into being her little pet and abusing the power of the dagger, constantly making derisive comments about you, constantly saying _something_ to drive me mad. I couldn't think straight half the time—I was going insane, Belle! I couldn't let her get away with it. I let my fury get me. I let the darkness win. I thought I was doing the right thing."

His voice has risen considerably over the course of his monologue, and his breathing has become even more ragged, and he's shaking uncontrollably.

She is eerily calm when she bites back, "Was it _worth_ it?"

He sighs and swallows back another around of tears (how was it possible for a grown man—the Dark One—to cry so much?).

"No. All I feel now is empty."

It's Belle's turn to let out a heavy sigh then. She meets his eyes and speaks sternly.

"I have done nothing but fight for you for all these years. I never stopped. I never stopped loving you or missing you. I never stopped fighting."

She pauses, falters for a moment and delivers her ultimatum.

"Now it's time for you to start fighting for me."

And with that, Belle whirls on her heel and marches toward the staircase.

He doesn't go after her. He knows better and gives Belle her space, gives her independence.

When she comes back down twenty minutes later, she's got a duffel bag strung over her shoulder and a rolling suitcase gripped in her left hand. A strangled cry dies on his lips. She's really leaving him.

"A central part of marriage is honesty and trust. And I can't do this if this is how it's going to be. I'll be in the apartment above the library."

She lets go of the suitcase handle, reaches out to gently cup his cheek. Her touch is like fire and ice and he's going to drown if this is the last time he ever gets to feel her skin on his.

"Fight for me," she whispers.

The door closes, and she's gone.

And suddenly he's right back where he started, living in a cage.

Because this house is certainly not a home without her.

* * *

_A/N: Reviews tho. I'm already writing the next chapter because I need a Rumbelle fix like none other. _


	3. Chapter Three

_A/N: Ah man. They had to give us the episode that gives the fandom the most feels right before Finals Week. Luckily, I'm all done as of today! So let's celebrate with a new chapter, eh? I seriously don't know where this stroke of ambition is coming from, but I am rolling with it. Hope you all are too. __Thanks so, SO much for all the love already. I really do appreciate it. Makes me wanna keep writing!_

* * *

Chapter Three

_Your mouth is poison._

Word of Zelena's demise traveled quickly through Storybrooke after Emma and Regina came to pay Rumplestiltskin a visit after finding the cell in the sheriff's station empty. It was only hours after Belle had left, and he was laying prostrate on his bed, clothes wrinkled and heart shattered. The knock on the door was the last shred of reality he was hanging onto.

Emma knew immediately that something had gone awry, and when Rumple peered at the Savior as he swung the door open, he only gave a ragged sigh.

His gaze shifted to Regina, and he couldn't place her reaction as upset or relieved.

Instead of trying to decipher it, he averts his eyes to the ground, to his shined shoes, and sighs once more.

"If you're here to inquire about Zelena and absolutely tear me apart, I'm afraid there's not much more damage that can be done to me," he offers.

"Belle?" Emma guesses, a little stunned by his openness.

He gives a sad smile.

"She's my conscience."

Regina grits her teeth and says, "I don't agree with what you've done. At all. She was the most wicked being we have ever come in contact with, but she was still my sister. However, I understand your reasons."

He's taken aback by how forgiving she's being, and it almost upsets him.

"Trying to be the hero still, Regina?" he chides.

But Regina and Emma both see the pain in his eyes. Regina has seen that look in the mirror—that same conflicted, sorrowed face that feels that all hope is lost. She understands the willingness to do anything for a child.

"Tell us what happened," Regina states.

So he explains the events with Zelena—being sure to leave out any mention of a proposal—and is barely able to make it through every gory detail without heaving.

* * *

It's three days later when Ruby notices that something about Belle is off. She noticed the first time when she came into Granny's the day after the announcement of Zelena's death was made, and she sat by herself in a corner, a book unopened on the table. She would see Rumplestiltskin come in usually about an hour after Belle had left, a similarly sullen look on his face. Nothing added up—why weren't they there together?

Ruby's just getting off her shift as Belle is half-way through a hamburger, and she almost seems to be gazing wistfully at the burger, as if there's some sort of treasured memory hidden within it. Ruby takes the liberty of sitting down across the table from her friend.

Belle breaks her stare with the burger at the sound of a chair screeching against the tile floor and encounters Ruby's inquisitive face.

Ruby wastes no time asking all the questions that Belle doesn't want to answer.

"What's been up with you the past few days? You've been awfully quiet."

Much as she wants to lie, the words come pouring out of Belle before she can even stop them. Keeping what had transpired bottled up even for a matter of days was nearly impossible. The dam broke, and Belle tearfully began to explain.

Belle doesn't lead with the proposal. She starts by telling Ruby everything that happened after that. It's only when she's emotionally spent, tears clinging to her cheeks and letting go to fall onto the table in front of her, and some patrons are not-so-surreptitiously glancing over at her and Ruby and whispering, that she closes her eyes, seals the world out, and barely chokes out:

"The most damning part of all this is that just hours earlier, he proposed."

Ruby sputters out the coffee she's sipping and starts hacking. There's a burning in her lungs, and she can't tell if it's from the coffee or from the fact that her heart is breaking for Belle.

"Oh, Belle," Ruby offers, reaching her hands across the table to grip onto her friend's. "I am so, so sorry."

Belle just shakes her head and stares out the window, a self-deprecating smile on her face.

"It's fine." She's playing it off, and Ruby knows it, wants to yell, _Bullshit, its fine, _but she's going to let Belle grieve in her own way for right now.

"So what now?"

Belle lurches just a bit as she responds, the memory and that unshakable optimism and hope within her trying to take hold, and she just. _cannot._ let it.

"I told him to fight for me. We'll see if he does."

Ruby's heart lifts just a bit at that. She's the love of his bloody life. Surely they would find a way to work it out? As weird as Ruby thought the relationship to be at first, Belle and Rumple were unusually cute together. And Ruby saw the way that he looked at Belle when she wasn't paying attention—like she had hung the moon and stars and was a radiant jewel to always be treasured. Despite how much he was failing her now, she wanted to have hope for the both of them.

Ruby gives Belle's hands a squeeze before pulling them both to their feet.

"What do you say you, me, and Mary Margaret go have a little girls' night? The two of us were going to go out for a drink, but I think tonight calls for some ice cream and chick flicks."

Belle just gives her a grateful smile and follows her out.

* * *

He's gone a week without her now, and he's quite sure that he's losing his mind. She had left her mark on the pink house while he had been away for the past year. He washed the sheets almost every day now, but every time, the scent of her perfume still lingered just a little bit.

She's left several books behind, and there are items in his refrigerator that only she would have purchased—a gallon jug of iced tea, so much ice cream in his freezer (it was her favorite modern world treat), and all sorts of other confections that tempted her insatiable sweet tooth.

He hoped that meant she wouldn't be gone forever. That she had left things behind were a sign from her that this was temporary. Either that, or she was in such a rush to leave him and despised him so greatly that she had cared to take only necessities.

But regardless, the only way she was ever going to come back was for him to win her heart all over again. And he wasn't quite sure how.

Which was how he ended up in front of the Charming family's apartment complex and was soon knocking on the door, which opened to a shell-shocked Mary Margaret, clutching her newborn son tightly to her chest. She's grateful for her arms around her son because any freedom to lunge at him for hurting Belle may have been satisfied had she been in the capacity to do so.

"Mr. Gold, I—I… is this about rent?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes. Not everything in his life is about hounding his tenets.

"No, dearie. I can assure you that of all the properties I keep, yours is very low on my list of concerns for whose rent is in on time."

She puffs her lip out and just looks confused, can't decide if that's a compliment or if he's just annoyed.

"Right," she goes with a neutral answer. "Well, how can I help you?"

"I need to speak to your husband."

It clicks a little bit for her in her head. She knows that Gold has confided in David in the past about Belle and roundabout-ly asking for dating advice. She quirks just a bit of a smile, and there's an unspoken deal happening between them. She'll go get David, and she won't say another word or prod him into telling her what this is all really about.

Mary Margaret retreats and about thirty seconds later, David is striding toward the door, a knowing look on his face as well.

"Dating advice?" The Prince asks, feigning a smug look.

Rumple just sighs and begrudgingly nods.

"Something like that."

They stroll over to Granny's for a cup of coffee, mostly in awkward silence until they get there.

It's not until they sit down that he's finally decided how he wants to start.

"I proposed to Belle."

David flashes him a genuine smile.

"Well, way to go, Don Juan! Congratulations! So what do you need? Wedding planning help?"

Rumple's lips form a thin line, and he counters, "Not exactly."

Rumple explains what happened, desperate to not get emotional in front of this man—his friend and confidant, he reluctantly admits inwardly, and suddenly David understands why Mary Margaret looked so exhausted and forlorn coming home the other night from hanging out with Ruby and Belle.

"So you need a plan to win her back? Again?" David inquires when Rumple has finished.

He grits his teeth again.

"Something like that."

David nods, and he's suddenly very pensive. And then he breaks the silence again, like he's had an idea.

"Belle deserves to be treated like a queen. You can't just give her words. You have to give her action."

Rumple sits up straighter, deep in thought, until after a few moments he quickly rises and ushers David out with him.

"I think I have my first idea."

* * *

Belle's been careful enough to avoid seeing Rumple anywhere for the week that they've been…what could she even call it? Apart? Separated? Broken up? Were they broken up?

She turns the key into the door of her apartment and as she removes it, she peers up to see bright color everywhere. Blushing pinks, deep purples, crimson reds, sunset oranges, bright sunny yellows, and so much deep, emerald green punctuating it.

There are flowers adorning what seems like every possible surface in the living room—placed all along the TV, strewn about the coffee table and cabinets, across the couch. Rose petals polka-dot the carpet. And in the middle of it all are two very guilty looking men who appear to be arranging tulips on a mirror at the start of her hallway.

Prince Charming and her Dark Prince.

In her apartment.

Arranging flowers.

Her heart softens just the smallest bit before her shock gets the best of her.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

David shrinks back immediately and stutters for words while motioning to Rumplestiltskin.

Rumple's already moving toward her carefully, hands up in a sort of surrender, but before he can speak, she goes on.

"You break my heart and my trust and that's not enough for you so you break into my apartment?"

He's stunned, a little bit defeated, and so, so helpless and desperate to get her back.

"I want to fight for you, Belle. I know words aren't enough."

"So you think you can buy me back with a flower shop?" she replies sharply.

He swallows any anger he feels and focuses on being calm. Focuses on the blue eyes in front of him that he wants to look at him lovingly and not disappointed and hurt.

"No," he whispers. "You're not something that can be bought, Belle. I couldn't give you all the libraries in the world to make up for this. I couldn't put enough flowers on your walls. I couldn't take you to the most exotic places and romantic dinners and have it be close to enough for you. And I know these words now probably just sound empty and cliché, but I want you to know that I mean it. You deserve to be treated like the royalty you always were. I want to shower you with the love and affection that I haven't always gotten the chance to. So I figured I could start here."

She reluctantly goes over to a bouquet of roses that makes its home on her kitchen counter. Her curiosity gets the best of her, and she picks them up, breathing in the scent of the blood-red petals.

She gives him a pointed look, quirking her eyebrow and looking deadly serious.

"None of these are Gaston, are they?"

And for the first time in over a week, Rumple flashes a genuine smile.

"No," he replies simply.

She shows a hint of a smile before her mouth disappears behind the flowers again, no doubt trying to hide any evidence that she's just the tiniest bit charmed.

And then it hits her. Flowers. There are _f__lowers _everywhere. There's only one flower shop in Storybrooke, and—

"How did you get all these?"

Rumple sees the wheels turning as she makes the connection. He had to have gotten them all from Belle's father's shop.

"He knew. At least I think he did. He didn't ask, and I didn't say. But I didn't beat him up if that's what you're wondering. We were completely civil. It probably helped that I had Mr. Nolan there to mediate."

She purses her lips and barely smiles again.

"Well," she sighs. "I think its best that you two go now. Thank you, though."

David, who's been hiding down the hallway, listening intently but trying to stay out of sight, clutching a few daffodils, rounds the corner and smiles a bit.

Rumplestilskin just nods his head toward Belle.

"Enjoy the flowers."

She sees them out without another word.

But she doesn't ask him to give her his key to her apartment and the library.

He thinks its progress.

So does she.

* * *

_ A/N: Dawww. Yay for hope! Question/comment for y'all: So canonically, the time portal was opened and yada yada and they're going to deal with that in the finale. Honestly, I don't know I want to really touch that. Personally, opening the time portal and having people go back in time (or whatever they plan on doing with it in the finale), just doesn't appeal to me. I don't feel like it does anything for the storyline, and I've had enough of curses and people forgetting each other for awhile. Ya feel? It's getting a little overdone for my tastes. So if I did incorporate it, it would probably be brief, but it might add a little action here. So gimme feedback on whether or not this is something that you'd like to see or not see on your reviews please! _


	4. Chapter Four

_A/N: Heyooooooo, readers! So with the new A/E interview confirming for us that Rumple's proposal was in fact, genuine, here's another chapter to celebrate! Hope y'all are staying positive about Rumbelle this Sunday. And again, thank you, thank you for all da love. I didn't really know what I'd be getting into just jumping into a new fandom, so I appreciate the response a ton._

_Also, sorry it there are small grammatical mistakes and such. I wanted to get this up quickly. _

* * *

Chapter Four

_Your mouth is wine. _

It's been a week since the flowers incident, and there hasn't been much activity other than the genial acknowledgement while seeing each other in passing on the sidewalk. He's taking it slowly, giving her space, and she's grateful for that. But Belle's lonely.

It's 6:38 at night on Friday at the library, and Ariel is keeping Belle company in the fairly lonely building. There are a few patrons aimlessly mulling around, but the place closes at 8, so she doesn't expect much more activity.

It's 6:49 PM when the biggest activity of the day begins.

He's what the few harlequin novels she's read in the past (completely for research, she justifies) as tall, dark, and handsome. His jaw line is peppered in a well-kept dark beard and he strolls right up to the circulation desk, all mystery and confidence rolling off his dark button-down and well-fitted jeans. Even Ariel's drooling just a bit.

He gives Belle a ridiculously attractive smirk as he waltzes up to her.

"Hi, how can I help you?" she poses, just as eagerly and as friendly as she would to any other customer. But she can see that this man is already wanting to undress her with his eyes and whether it's the rebellion she wants to feel toward Rumple and his actions or her loneliness, she's just a little bit intrigued.

"You don't remember me, sweetheart?" he drawls out smoothly.

Belle scrunches her face in response. He's thrown a bit off guard.

"It's me, Keith… We spent some time together a little over a year ago for awhile at the Rabbit Hole…"

Belle mouths back, _Rabbit Hole_, trying to fit the pieces together.

Oh.

_OH. _This was the man that Rumple had mentioned from her Lacey days.

She also vaguely remembers his face from the Enchanted Forest. She just can't place him.

"Oh, right," she sputters. "I'm sorry, I just—"

He waits patiently while she stutters through her sentence.

"Well, I heard that old crocodile let you go. Shame for him, but every other man's gain. I was wondering if you'd wanna grab a drink after this?"

He's smooth, and she hates it. Hates it even more that he insulted her—_shit._ She's got to stop doing that when she doesn't even know if they have a label anymore.

She cranes her head to Ariel quickly and then back to Keith, a little surprised and a lot speechless.

"Um, well, I—"

"Tell you what, you get out of here around 8, right? I'll meet you at Granny's then. Stop by, and I'll buy you a drink."

He winks at her and then whirls around and heads toward the non-fiction section.

The clock strikes 8:00 PM, and she locks up. She waits for Ariel to go before her, and after that, she's not quite sure what possesses her to walk to Granny's.

* * *

Keith's nice enough—a little dull and not quick to catch her wit, but nice enough. He pays for her glass of white wine and at least seems interested in what she's saying. She knows that everyone in the diner is stealing glances at them and mumbling under their breath, probably about how she has terrible taste in men, but at least this was a semi-upgrade. Ruby keeps passing by their booth and shooting Belle furtive looks that scream, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?" but she passes them off, shooting her friend a quick text: _We'll talk later._

"So what did happen with you and Gold?" Keith suddenly asks.

Her heart slams against her rib cage. She knows that the only reason she's here with Keith right now is to get him off her mind.

She purses her lips and curtly replies, "I'd rather not discuss that."

That only makes Keith more intrigued, and he waits her out for a few moments, trying to see if he can get her to crack.

He clearly isn't familiar with Belle French's stubborn streak.

"Might help to get it out," he offers.

She shakes her head.

"I think I've done enough of that for now, thank you."

He shuts up and takes a sip of his beer, and then he gives her a compliment about the color of her eyes.

She relaxes—hates that she's almost enjoying this and that she's wishing that Rumple would walk in and storm around in a jealous rage—and continues with idle chatter about the book she's currently reading.

Belle feels just a tinge of guilt strike her. She isn't in the business of using people, but she is desperate to feel wanted. So she swallows down the guilt with her wine. It's only natural to feel this way. After all, it's just one drink.

Keith is rambling on about his favorite movies, and at this point, she's tuned him out and is focusing on the thoughts in her own head. She barely hears him when he asks, "So you wanna get out of here?"

"Sure," she offers flippantly, grabbing her purse and rising from the booth. They exit to the sound of the bell above the door jangling matched with several heads swiveling to watch them go.

"Where to, milady?"

Belle just shrugs and again, that guilt rises again because she feels bad to be leading him on like this, but at least by asking him to take her home, she won't make it worse.

"I think I'd just like to go home. I'm a little tired."

Keith's face falls just a bit, and he wordlessly begins to stride down Main Street in the direction of her apartment.

Uneasy silence follows until they reach the front of the library, and they both pause and turn toward each other.

"You're not really over him yet, are you?"

Belle purses her lips grimly.

"No. I'm sorry. I don't think I will be for awhile. It's only been two weeks. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done this. I don't mean to give you the wrong impression."

But Keith looks completely undeterred as he answers her, grabs her wrist as she begins to reach for her keys in her purse and reels her in to him, his face slowly closing in on her, and she thinks he's going for her lips until he turns at the last second, his stubbly chin grazing against her cheek.

"I could help you forget," he mumbles against the shell of her ear.

Keith doesn't give Belle a time to answer or pull away, and the next sensation she feels is his lips on hers. She's only kissed three men in her lifetime—a few, chaste kisses shared with Gaston back in Avonlea, the countless memories of Rumple that she'll forever have stored on her lips, and now Keith.

The feel of his lips on hers is all wrong. Whereas Rumple's kisses were fueled completely by True Love, this is just tipsy sensation-seeking, desperate for a fix. Keith's rough but not in any of the right ways. There's no passion behind it; he's just trying hard to make her feel, make her forget.

It's only having the complete opposite effect.

She kisses him back for just a moment, feeling to see if she can find a rhythm—find anything with anyone outside of her Dark One. But she knows from the instant her mouth starts moving with his, it's never going to happen.

Keith takes the small movement of Belle's lips as encouragement and darts his tongue out to trace along her lower lip, but she pulls back abruptly and pushes him away as he tries to grasp onto her wrist tighter.

And suddenly, she remembers. All she can see in front of her is the rough, drunk man from the Forest who tried to make a deal with Rumple for a night with her. How Rumple wouldn't have it and with the fire in the imp's eyes, the Sheriff ended up almost bludgeoned to death (Rumple had settled for ripping his tongue out. Good enough, she supposed.)

Belle's just terrified now and on impulse, her hand connects with Keith's cheek, and he gives a little grunt of pain.

"I'm sorry," she breathes. "You don't get to take advantage of me like this."

It's then that she peers behind his broad shoulders to see a distinctive silhouette across the street and a little ways down the road. But she knows that silhouette anymore, and she knows that he knows hers. The body turns and begins to walk in the opposite direction, tufts of his hair blowing in the breeze, a hint of a limp in his step evident.

So without another word, Belle leaves Keith behind. And she runs.

* * *

Rumple leaves his shop late that night, a little after 9 PM. He really hasn't gone home all that much in the past couple weeks. He spends his days and nights just tinkering with the items in the shop, staring at that bloody chipped cup, laying wide awake on the bed he keeps in the back. He goes home only to shower and maybe eat every now and then. He hasn't slept in his own home for the past five nights, the lingering feel of Belle in his home just too much for him to bear at this point in time. But he decides that tonight, he'll at least run home and take a shower, maybe sleep on his couch.

He locks up and begins to trek down the sidewalk to his pink house, leaning on his cane with every step. Ever since Belle left, the pain in his ankle has been getting gradually and gradually worse once again, until yesterday when he had to begin to use the cane again for support.

He's literally falling apart without her.

He notices two shadows as he passes by Granny's, and even from the other side of the street, he can make out at least one of them.

_Belle. _

He squints and notices from the small amount of light from the streetlight over their heads that she's with a man. And then his heart clenches—he actually feels like someone is ripping it out of his chest and crushing it, like he's seen (and done himself) so many times before—because the man is leaning into Belle and then his lips are on hers.

Oh.

He wants to scream. He wants to call out to whoever she's with and give him a five second warning because he wants nothing more than to kick this man's ass all the way to the Enchanted Forest. But instead, he watches as Belle seems to reluctantly pull away from the man. He notices her freeze as she peers over his shoulder and catches sight of the silhouette, and then Rumple turns and begins to limp away. He feels like a kicked puppy with his tail in between his legs.

He's never felt so helpless.

But his ears perk up the slightest bit when he recognizes the clip of heels racing across the asphalt, getting closer and closer. He almost cracks a smile. Only Belle would be brave enough to try to sprint in stilettos.

"Rumple, wait!" he hears the unmistakable accent pierce through the quiet that shrouds the town.

There's a lump in his throat that he's begging to leave him alone, and his head is pounding in rhythm with the sound of her shoes against the ground.

He doesn't turn around.

So she keeps chasing.

* * *

_A/N: Just going to go hide now because angst. I'm sorry! Rant in your reviews. I will try to have the next chapter up ASAP so as not to keep y'all waiting! Review away!_


	5. Chapter Five

_A/N: Hey, you guys! Thanks again so much for your comments. Something I just want to touch on- I honestly don't remember much about Keith's character at all (like I COMPLETELY forgot about his Enchanted Forest counterpart until some of you started mentioning it) haha, so if that's why he seems more polite and less of a douche, I took some creative liberty there but ultimately went back and edited a few things so that Belle's memory of him is a bit hazy at first, but then it clicks with her who he is when he starts to force himself on her a little. I can't believe I forgot about that plot point. Thanks, peoples. I'm kind of dumb sometimes. (Read: ALL the time.)_

_Anyway, I had to write this next chapter right away because I couldn't leave our babies in such dire straits. So without trying to spoil much, this installment is going to be a little happier. :) _

* * *

Chapter Five

_You think your dreams are the same as mine. _

Belle's calves are killing her by the time she catches up with Rumple, and she races out in front of him, stopping and turning to face him, essentially blocking him before he can try to escape.

"Rumple," she pants, "Just wait. Please."

She can see in his eyes right away that he's hurt. He is so hurt. And angry and jealous and hopeless and so _fucked._

"Belle, there's nothing for you to explain. I get it."

He lifts his cane to continue walking, but she places a firm hand on the wrist he lifted.

"Let me talk."

Any attempt to do otherwise is futile. So he just stands.

"He kissed me—"

"Don't tell me you weren't kissing him back. He's sleazy, Belle. He would have done nothing but take advantage of you."

She lets out a heavy sigh and screws her eyes closed, her frustration and desperation to get him inside her head to understand how she's really feeling growing by the second.

"I did. Just for a bit. He came by the library and asked me to get a drink. So I said yes because I needed something to get all of this off of my mind. Because he was actually decent. I think the man's grown up a tad. But also because I can't eat or sleep or even breathe without thinking about all that's going on. Not a minute goes by that it doesn't cross my mind how much everything has fallen apart. I replay all the scenarios in my head constantly—over and over again. I just wanted it to stop."

"Well, I hope you got what you wanted."

His tone is derisive, his accent more apparent than usual, and again, he begins to limp off toward his house.

He's made it a few steps away from her when she finally answers.

"I didn't."

He pauses but doesn't turn around.

"I honestly don't know if I'll ever be happy again. If I'll ever truly love someone again."

That damned lump in his throat is almost choking him now, and he tearfully turns around once again to face her.

"You deserve so much more than what I will ever be able to give you. But please know that I will always love you. I know I've lost you now, but I will live contentedly knowing that you will find happiness again. And you will."

Belle wipes away the tears that are streaming down her cheeks now, and she just shakes her head at him.

"You haven't lost me, Rumple. I just need to know that you're going to fight for me."

"I'm the Dark One," he chokes. "The only way I know how to fight is with evil."

She steps closer to him, and she raises a hand to his chest. He knows that she must be able to feel how wildly his heart rate just rose just from her touch.

"There is good in your heart. There is light in your heart. Despite everything, and as much as I am still livid and hurt, I still believe in you."

And hearing that, well, it's enough for now.

* * *

Rumple shows up on Monday morning at the doors of the library, and Belle shows up about ten minutes later, fumbling around with her keys until she extracts the correct one from the rest, peering up and startling when she sees him in one of his patented well-tailored suits, holding out a chai tea latte for her.

He's pleased when she almost looks happy to see him.

"Hi," she greets quietly.

"Hey."

It's disgusting how that one little word can set her heart to melting. With everyone else, he can be so crass—civil at best, with a curt "Hello," or often times making a comment about how his shop is closed or not to interrupt him when he's clearly busy. But no matter what situation or circumstance, whether in person or over the phone, whether it's been two hours or twenty-eight years, he always greets her so warmly. There's a lilt to his voice every time he says it that she just cannot get over—she knows its especially for her, her special greeting from him. _Hey._

Damn him for always being able to charm her.

"What are you doing here?"

"Just thought I would drop by on this dreary Monday morning to offer a little warmth," he responds, motioning up to the overcast sky and then down to the dewy grass that's been misted on during the night.

She flashes him that same shy smile that she tries to bite back—just like when he gave her that rose in the Dark Castle all those years ago, and she even adds a half-joking curtsy for effect as she takes the tea from his hand.

He can't keep the grin off his face as he bends slightly to bow.

"I was wondering if maybe we could talk," he continues.

She looks surprised and then hopeful. She fumbles for the key once again and heads to open the library doors.

"Sure. It's 7 AM on a Monday, so I'm imagining not many people will be dropping by if you'd like to come in."

He nods eagerly and ushers them both inside.

Belle sets her purse down and hops up on the circulation desk, and she looks so perfect (when does she ever not?). Her chestnut hair falls in wavy curls, and she's wearing that deep blue sleeveless dress that he loves so much and red high heels (that she has no idea are screaming "fuck me") to add a little color.

Her innocence is adorable and altogether maddening.

She places her hands on either side of her body and grips the granite countertop.

"So what's up?"

"I think it'd just be good for us…now that we've had a couple weeks to settle down and think some, for us to just talk things out a little."

She balks, and he picks up on her rising anxiety, so he tentatively pries one of her hands that's vice-gripping the counter and takes it in his own, lightly massaging out the kinks in her knuckles that have formed.

"Belle, I've been nothing but a coward, and I'm here to try to start to make amends. I'm trying to do better. I fail all the time, and this won't be the last time, but I'm going to try. Try harder than I have been. So this is me trying to give up that cowardice just a little bit."

She detaches her hand from his, mulls over her answer before she gives it.

"Why did you want me around in the first place?"

He cocks his head and his lips part, and here he is, already losing the upper hand to her as usual. So she asks the most fundamental question that he's never gotten around to fully answering for her. _Why her? _

But he doesn't give her sarcasm or evasiveness or wordplay. Just the truth.

"Originally, it was because I knew you were the price that would cause the most pain. I wanted to see your family squirm. I wanted to cause them turmoil. It almost entertained me to make those tough deals with people."

(Belle's suddenly not sure she's glad she had asked, and her stomach is doing flips and twists and knots all over her gut.)

"But then I saw how willing you were to go. How willing you were to be sacrificial. To be brave. I never forgot what you told me in the Dark Castle when I asked you why you came with me—_Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow._ I marveled over it, and that was when I knew I needed you to come with me, not to cause anyone pain but because I was lonely, Belle—I was so, terribly lonely without Bae and without anyone else. Honestly, I probably would have just let you go out of lack of interest eventually had you not intrigued me so much. I didn't expect that at all. I wasn't looking for love. That much I told your father was true. I never _needed_ a caretaker or companionship, but I longed for it. I just didn't know until that moment that I was going to find it in you."

(And her stomach is doing flips and twists and knots all over her gut. For all the right reasons now.)

He stands directly in front of her, those dark brown eyes looking just a little bit lighter now that he's gotten that off his chest. She just stares back, silently plundering his heart for more in the way only she can. He continues.

"Your wit is what initially blew me away. You were so smart, so brave, so willing to please but so unafraid to call me out, to dig deeper and want to get to know me. And that look in your eyes when I caught you when you fell from the drapes, when I showed you the library, when I told you about Bae. Even all the times I pushed you away, no one had ever looked at me like that, Belle. No one. Not my wife or any other woman before or since you. And before I could do anything to stop it, my heart was yours."

She purses her lips and nods grimly.

"So you had to let me go."

He reaches out so slowly to let his fingers feather against her cheek, and her eyes flutter shut and _shit shit shit._

"You were right, Belle," he whispers. "You were always right. I was a coward. My power never meant more to me than you. It was just a crutch I couldn't bear to let go of."

He leans just a bit closer. Rumple's not sure how he's controlling himself to not lean her over the desk and kiss her with all lips and teeth and tongues and wandering hands. But instead, he composes himself and keeps himself anchored on her eyes and whispers just one more thing.

"But I let go of the wrong thing, Belle."

He leans closer still until she lets her forehead fall against his, eyes shut and breath coming out in shallow gasps as tears leak through onto her eyelashes.

"Thank you for this," she mutters into the small space between them.

They both have so much more to say, so much more to work out, but the doorknob turns and they fly apart from each other to whip around and see Ruby and Ariel trying and failing to hide their girly grins.

Rumple just nods and shows himself out, leaving Belle to curse her friends in her head. The pair stride over to her, expectancy in their eyes, and she just smiles back, quickly grabbing her phone and shooting him a text.

_We're not done with this talk._

* * *

_A/N: Eeeeeeeeek! Look at these cuties getting along again and sharing feelings. Thought I'd throw down some fluff right before we all go into emotional upheaval because of the finale. Let's hope that good things happen on screen for our lovely couple. Thanks so much again for the reviews! Leave your comments below, please! _


	6. Chapter Six

_A/N: So did anyone survive the finale? Because I barely did. If you haven't seen it yet, I'm going to have to ask you to close your eyes and leave now because I am about to fangirl._

_THEY'RE MARRIED, YOU GUYS OUR BABIES ARE MARRIED WHAT EVEN OH MY GOODNESS. _

_Okay, yes, I am disappointed that they didn't resolve the fake dagger issue before the wedding, but Belle fully knows that she's marrying an incredibly flawed man. I'm excited to see her get pissed about it honestly (because then angry makeup sex is going to ensue). But anyway, this ship has been put through the ringer, and I'm just going to enjoy the fact that they're happy right now. Because we all know that they genuinely do love each other. Also, ELSA. WHAT. HOW DID THEY DO THAT SO QUICKLY. I know some people are very concerned about portraying her as a villain, but I am very excited about her arc—whatever form it may take. _

_Speaking of, I was thinking of making incorporating that into this story? Might be fun to see how Elsa reacts to Rumple, knowing that he kept her locked up. Or some have wanted Elsa and Belle to be somehow related. I'd love to hear what y'all think! I'm open to suggestions!_

* * *

Chapter Six

_I don't love you, but I always will. _

Ariel and Ruby's giggles become even louder once the door is securely closed, and though Belle's frustration is high, she can't help but shake her head and smile at her friends.

"What in the hell are you two doing here?" she asks, trying and failing miserably at sounding annoyed, her sternly set jaw relaxing into a smile.

"You've been a little off the grid all weekend, but I think I'm starting to understand why…," Ruby offers suggestively, wiggling her eyebrows.

Belle rolls her eyes and scoffs.

"It's not like that. It's not like that at all."

Ruby looks skeptical, but then Ariel pipes up, "So why don't you tell me what you were doing with Nottingham on Friday night?"

Ruby sputters her coffee onto the carpet, and Belle just sighs—partially because that's going to leave a stain. Partially because damn Ariel for bringing that up, and how did she even know?

The mermaid spots Belle's look of confusion.

"Oh come on. There was no other reason that you would have been stalling and waiting for me to leave."

And then Ruby chimes in again.

"Belle, EW! Keith? What the hell?"

Belle purses her lips and cants her head away from her friends. Early morning gossip about men is usually not a reason that people hate Monday mornings.

"It was a moment of weakness. Honestly, I was just so distracted that I barely remembered the guy at first. I knew I knew him somehow, and it probably wasn't in good context, but I needed to get my mind off of Rumple. I felt like I was drowning, and I thought maybe—" she pauses and sighs because as much as Belle French is witty and intelligent, she can also be so naïve sometimes, she thinks. She's embarrassed at what she's about to say but mutters it under her breath anyway, "at least that's how it goes in the books."

Ruby just gives her an understanding smile and steps forward to wrap her arms around her.

"No judgment from us, Belle. It was thirty years ago, sweetie."

"I should have remembered. I shouldn't have even done it. He was just more…charming than I remember," she mumbles into Ruby's shoulder.

Ariel reaches a hand out to squeeze Belle's arm.

"Well hey, we're all flawed. Besides, I think the bigger question is what was your fiancé-but-not-really-fiancé-because-you're-having-a-huge-drag-out-fight doing here?"

Ruby lets go of Belle and turns to Ariel.

"You couldn't have come up with a better descriptor than _that_?"

They laugh, and Belle finally looks down to see her cell phone screen lighting up.

_**Rumple**__  
iMessage_

She slides her finger across the screen to see his reply to her text.

_Agreed. Dinner tomorrow?_

* * *

He tells her to meet him at Granny's around 6, and when she walks in wearing a sleek but simple black dress with sleeves that come just past her shoulders, her hair half-pinned up away from her face and the rest falling down along her neck and the top of her back, she has eyes only for the man sitting in the booth that's right in her vision.

The rest of the place notices the interaction immediately, and Granny knows that she's about to have a full house because no one is going to leave to miss out on this.

Ruby just smirks as she comes to take their orders.

"The usual, I'm assuming?"

Rumple just nods politely and tries to hide the blush that's seeping onto his cheeks.

They start with small talk about their days—Belle marvels at the current book she's reading. She's ventured into the nonfiction section lately and is learning all about the mysterious land that they live in. She's aware of this country deemed the "United States" and all the fifty regions that make it up, but she's only just now started to dig deeper and finds it fascinating and rambles about the Revolutionary War. She's just so cute that Rumple doesn't bother stopping her, and he even picks up a few tidbits about the country that he didn't know before.

One thing he would never understand about her is where she stored all of that knowledge in that pretty little head of hers.

She's taking her first few bites of her hamburger when she sets it down suddenly and cocks her head to the side.

"You know, we haven't been interrupted yet."

Rumple chuckles as he squirts more ketchup onto the burger and responds, "Still plenty of time for that, dearie."

But no one bothers to disturb them. They're too busy trying to hide their intrigue at the Beauty and the Beast, who appear to be working things out after word spread everywhere about their separation over the past few weeks.

Her eyes dart around to all the patrons of Granny's, who are trying their best to be sneaky about eavesdropping on the pair. She just rolls her eyes. She doesn't care what other people think of her being here with Rumple. She's just bothered that people can't manage to stay out of other people's business.

"Maybe we should go somewhere a little more quiet to talk about things?"

He nods in understanding, and they finish their dinner chattering about neutral topics, and his heart leaps when she sasses him like she would in the Dark Castle. They walk out about 20 minutes later to the sounds of a few whispers that are mostly covered up by other idle chatter and the clanging of utensils on plates.

They stride down the street together, keeping a few inches of distance between themselves.

"So…" Belle begins, weaving her legs back and forth as she takes wide steps to slow down. "We've had about two and a half weeks since all of this went down, huh?"

He peers over at her.

"Anything you want to know, Belle. I'll tell you. I promise."

She stops and whirls toward him.

"Anything?"

"Anything."

There's a solemn look on his face as she stares him down, and she knows he's not bluffing. She's just surprised.

"Rumple."

The way she mutters his name there—its like a prayer, like she's calling out to him and holding onto nothing but him and all she needs is _him._

"In the Dark Castle, why did you believe that no one could want you?"

She shakes her head then and goes on, and she's been so good about not getting teary about this but here comes that stinging in her eyes again.

"Why, even now, can't you trust that I am madly, deeply in love with you?"

His knees almost buckle just from hearing that. _I am._ Present tense. Even after all that he's done to her, she is still staunchly standing right by his side, albeit giving him a little distance to figure out what she already knows and will hold as truth until the day she dies.

That there is good in Rumplestiltskin. He turns and they keep strolling down the street as he begins to speak.

"When I was a boy, my father sent me off to learn to spin. We were penniless, and so he sent me off. So I spun. I spun to bring me and my father back together. Until I went to find him and encountered him at a tavern—doing what he had always done, swindle people. All that mattered to me was being with my father, and so, with a magic bean, I suggested we go to another land. Where we could be happy together. So we went to Neverland. My father had dreamed of Neverland, and when we went there, he didn't want to leave. He wanted to regain youth. He didn't want me, and he let me go. And so I went back to the spinners' house where I lived until I was older. Later on, I was married to Milah…"

Belle is enraptured by his tale as they wind through the streets of Storybrooke. He tells of how he was drafted into the Ogre Wars, about the prophecy from the seer and Baelfire's birth and Milah leaving. He talks openly about finding Zoso and becoming the Dark One, how he wanted to use it as a force for good, how above all else, he always wanted to protect Baelfire. How he wanted a good life for them, even as he became obsessed and absorbed by magic and power. Even as he became a monster and couldn't let the power go.

She peers at him, and she can see tear tracks on his cheeks through the glow of the streetlights. She reaches for his hand as he continues.

"We could have been together. We could have been happy, and I let him slip through the portal. That's how he ended up in this world. That's how he met Swan. I let him go, and I let my power consume me more and more every day. I spun. I made deals. I tried to forget, and I never could. I felt so hopeless."

She intertwines their fingers and strokes her thumb along his as they continue to walk, headed back toward the library, a low rumble of thunder roaring as a few streaks of lightning crack on the horizon.

She can see that he's emotionally exhausted. He's telling her things he's never told anyone and things he can barely admit to himself internally, let alone out loud.

Belle tugs on his hand, and he stops and turns toward her.

She tentatively reaches up to brush stray strands of hair out of his face, grazing against his forehead, which is burning up from all the stress and nerves and adrenaline he's shoved down.

"Hey," she whispers, trying to bring him back down. "I can tell you're spent. I know how hard that must have been for you. But let's save the rest for another time, okay? It's going to rain, and I can tell you're tired."

He leans into her touch and just nods, the cool breeze against his forehead calming him more.

He smiles.

"Yeah, let's get you home."

They're about a quarter of the way back when raindrops begin to drizzle down from the clouds, and its when they're just across the street from the library that it begins to pour.

He curses under his breath and even against the protest of his leg, he tries to pull her along with him and run, but Belle yanks back and just laughs. Belle loves the rain. Even in the Dark Castle, he remembers when she would take breaks from cleaning inside and go tend to the gardens while it was raining, just so she could dance around. He'd give her hell about it—_I can't have the help tracking mud into the castle she's supposed to clean._

So Belle spins around like a fool in the middle of the street and giggles as the drops pelt her pale skin, and Rumple can only look on with a lopsided grin, and then she's calling out to him to join her.

He never was good at denying her.

Rumple ambles out into the street with her, and he swears that this woman is going to be the death of him. The pouring rain has smudged her makeup just the tiniest bit to give her bright blue eyes a smoky look to them, her hair is soaked in strands and ringlets curling around her shoulders, and she's shivering a little from the cold rain against her bare skin. He's pretty sure he might die if he doesn't kiss her now.

Her eyes lock on his lips, and there it is. The unmistakable chemistry and electricity between them that could probably set off their own lightning bolt (that sounds like something magic could do, he thinks).

"I don't ever want to see Nottingham's filthy lips—or anyone's lips for that matter—on yours," he all but growls.

"I think I can manage that."

She remembers in the back of her mind when Ruby told her months ago about her first kiss being in the middle of a rainstorm and how romantic it was, and it was so cliché and like _The Notebook _(Belle hadn't understood that reference at the time), but so wonderful.

Belle loves classic love stories, and it only seems right for her to get her romantic kiss in the rain, however clichéd it may be. So she flicks her eyes to his lips again.

"Belle—"

She shuts him up by pulling him down by his tie and crashing her lips against his, all the anger and hurt and confusion and unconditional love boiling over into the kiss. He wastes no time to wrap an arm around her waist, splaying his hand over her back while his other hand snakes up to her neck and buries into her drenched chestnut hair. Belle grips at his jacket, his shoulders, his hair, just wanting to memorize how he feels when they kiss all over again. He sucks and nips at her lower lip, and before she realizes it, he's backing her up onto the sidewalk and all the way to the library doors. He presses her up against it and uses the little open-mouthed gasp she makes as an opportunity to slide his tongue against the roof of her mouth. She lets out another moan that is doing all kinds of things to him, and he knows if he doesn't pull away soon, the night owls of Storybrooke are going to get quite a show. So he hangs on tight as her tongue traces his lips and pushes past his teeth, and he presses her more firmly into the door.

It takes all the semblance of sanity that he has left to finally pull away from her.

"Gods, Belle," he mumbles.

She shudders and breathes out a laugh. They've never kissed like that before. Sure, there's been chaste kisses that evolved into languid, sweet caresses and more gentle make out sessions, but she's never French-ed him (she's heard Ruby use the term once or twice) like a horny teenager against a wall.

She gains her composure and jokes, "I figured I had to reward you somehow."

He replies with a throaty chuckle and, "So you're going to condition me into telling you all my secrets?"

"I think you're doing a great job on your own."

* * *

_A/N: Had to give you all some teeth-rotting fluff. Sorry for the grammar mistakes and everything that I'm sure exist, but I wanted to make sure to get this up quickly. Also, I know that Belle has a flip phone in the series, not an iPhone (this is literally like the dumbest detail for me to overanalyze but I'm going to do it anyway). I just have this headcanon of her being obsessed with all the apps and giggling at all the different emojis and sending random ones to Rumple all the time. But anyway...Tell me what you want to see in the coming chapters! A little Elsa? No Elsa? More Rumbelle making out? _


	7. Chapter Seven

_A/N: First and foremost, yikes, am I sorry that I have not updated for two weeks. Not cool. I apologize! It's been hectic. And unfortunately, I leave for a week-long mission trip to Haiti a week from today. BUT I will try my hardest to get Chapter Eight up here before I leave, alright? Feel free to send me evil messages if I don't. ;) _

_Second: WHAT DA HECK GUYS. 100 reviews? Y'all are the best. I appreciate it so, so, so much. I've just felt really down on my writing lately and your reviews have really reminded me I don't suck. But I'll shut up now and give you this chapter as my thanks. _

_Also: about Elsa in this fic-no Elsa here, but I'm pretty sure that she's going to end up being a pretty central point in a future Rumbelle fic (or two or five. Who knows). But yes to the Rumbelle making out. Not in this chapter necessarily, but soon. _

* * *

Chapter Seven

_I wish you'd hold me when I turn my back._

The clock reads 12:48 AM, and Belle cannot bring herself to fall asleep. She's replayed Rumple's kisses—each and every touch she could possible commit to memory from their rendezvous in the rain a few nights ago—over and over again, and once she finishes that, she ruminates over all he's been doing for her lately.

He knows better than anyone that Belle loves romance, loves mystery and complexity, loves symbolism. The flowers with Charming—it was never just about the flowers, she knows. It was about the humility he had to show to obtain the gift. He had to not only first go see Charming and beg (she'd like to imagine) for his help, he had to confront her father, whom he'd not had to speak with since Moe had nearly sent her over the town line, whom Belle hadn't spoken to all that much since the incident, aside from a few phone calls and casual small talk around town, but always avoiding the topic of Belle's love life.

And that in itself began to prove that Rumple was a changed man—flawed, yes—but humble (there's a word she never really thought to associate with him) enough to go civilly to her father and nearly buy the whole shop (which no doubt would allow her father to easily pay the rent for the next few months). Belle couldn't help but smile at the thought. She still didn't know what exactly had transpired between Rumple and her father at the shop a few weeks ago, but she was hoping to get the story out of him eventually.

And then there was the showing up at the library and initiating their talk. She didn't often see him pour himself out so freely. It often took some encouragement, some reassurance that despite whatever he might reveal to her, there was nothing he could say that would make her stop loving him. And that was true—even throughout the past few weeks, she didn't stop loving him. And she wanted to make it work. It was going to be hard from here on out (even, she blushes as she remembers, despite hot make out sessions in the rain).

She appreciates his openness and honesty about his father and Milah and Bae—stories she's heard bits and pieces of before, but never so holistically and in such detail. There's so much they'd never gotten the chance to sit and talk about—in the Dark Castle, in Storybrooke. She couldn't stop thinking about his face—the relief that came over his face as he poured out all the dark and beautiful memories he had, but it was clear that one thing would not be an easy subject to breach: and that was Zelena herself.

She was finally beginning to understand Rumple's problems with honesty and opening up, but there was still something about him that had changed in his year in captivity that it has taken a bit to put her finger on. He's rather hypervigilant, and she doesn't doubt that he has flashbacks all the time. Seeing his breakdown just the other night, and especially the one when she caught him with the Dagger, she could see the emotional turmoil that was threatening to wreck him. They'd talked yesterday some at Granny's with Emma and Hook (who seemed quite cozy, she noticed) and Ruby and Granny, and when Hook erroneously brought the topic of the Wicked Witch into the conversation, she could easily see the way Rumple's features shifted, and his breathing became just the slightest bit more laborious that only Belle noticed.

She knows from her reading that he's very likely suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.

She doesn't really know how to handle that information. She's not sure whether to go to Archie, wait Rumple out and see if he says anything, or give him a few more days and try to confront the subject. And as she lays awake for the next hour and a half, she eventually decides to give the topic a rest for about a week and go from there.

* * *

Rumple is well aware of his madness, which is all the more frustrating because he really can't control the heart palpitations, the vivid flashbacks, the nights he wakes up in a cold sweat after the most vivid dreams.

_You feed the madness, and it feeds on you._

He keeps hearing the mantra that he knows he repeated over and over again from the wheel within his cell often, echoing in his head as the memory causes his heart rate to pick up.

He's frustrated—no, that's not a strong enough word. He's exasperated because he knows that this isn't just something he can fix by "getting over it." This isn't a mind over matter kind of deal. This is a disease, an illness, an abrasion just like any other. The pain is as real as a cut or a broken bone. It just manifests itself in a different way. And the problem is that because it's not physical pain, he doesn't trust any of his magic to fix it. A mere spell couldn't fix mental illness. A wave of his hand couldn't undo the wounds of abuse and abandonment and death.

He knows what's wrong with him. He knows that it's post-traumatic stress. He just hasn't brought himself to do anything about it. It's been plaguing him ever since he'd been free, even in the hours before he took a dagger to Zelena. He had thought that that could be his escape route from the pain—through vengeance. It's only intensified the war in his head.

Little things remind him of his time in captivity.

He doesn't allow himself to go down to his basement. The first night he had tried to sit at his wheel—spin to forget—he was overcome by an anxiety attack that left him wide-eyed and shuddering. So he locked the door and didn't allow himself to go back down there.

He saw various red-headed women around Storybrooke whose facial features would remind him just the slightest bit of his captor, and he would recoil and press his fingernails deep into his palms, never failing to leave half-moon marks in his hands.

One time he heard someone on his TV utter the word "sacrifice."

He only lets himself watch the weather and Belle's weekly segment on _Good Morning Storybrooke_ now.

And he's quite sure that he won't be eating another meat pie for a lifetime or twelve.

He tries to think positive thoughts each night. He tries to stay focused on Belle—his darling Belle, the feel of her lips on his, the way she'd tug on his hair and comb it between her fingers. He thinks about her laughter and her biting wit. He thinks about their date and that little black dress and the library doors from a week ago, thinks about the little talks they've only had the time to squeeze in since then with the damned Charmings knocking down his door for every little problem. He thinks about how much he loves her, how much she loves him, how she has fought for him even as he tries to prove himself and fight for her. He thinks about the mercy and grace that she constantly shows him, how she has never truly left his side.

All of that is enough to calm him and allow him to drift off to sleep.

It's once he drifts off to sleep that his subconscious takes over.

_You feed the madness, and it feeds on you. _

But he often sees green in his dreams.

And when it's not that, his mind replays the moments leading up to his own sacrifice with several alternate endings. One of them includes Pan's face morphing into Bae's, a sick sort of symbolism that wakes him up with the salty taste of tears on his lips. Another version has him making his sacrifice and him dying, only for Pan to come back and wreak unspeakable havoc on his family. And the worst nightmare he has, by far the most vile, is the one where he carries out his sacrifice as it happened (as if that wasn't difficult enough for him to re-live) and ends with Bae and Belle bringing him back to life, only for Zelena to make her command for him kill Belle and she doesn't get away in time…

And that's the one that woke him up tonight.

The dream's never gotten this far before. The other two times it's disrupted his sleep, he woke up to the wretched sound of Zelena's command and the look of terror in his love's eyes. Tonight, he didn't open his eyes until his scaly hands were wrapped around the porcelain skin of Belle's throat…

He needs help, and there's only a monetary niggling in his mind that tries to prevent him from his cause. _It's 2 AM. Don't bother her. Keep giving her space._ And in a desperate moment of weakness, he picks up his phone and dials Belle's number.

She picks up on the first ring. She's outside the pink house in twenty minutes (her breathing's a bit heavy, and she isn't wearing heels and he knows that his Belle, his sweet darling Belle, just sprinted probably most of the way to his house to be with him). When he opens the door and reaches out to caress her cheek, clutches her shoulder like he did the day she showed up broken and confused in his pawn shop, the dam breaks. She's real. She's here. In all rationality, he knows that they're okay and with his dagger back in his possession, any miscreant or magic that could come knocking on his door right now would have a hell of a time trying to defeat him. But that doesn't change the fact that he feels weak, a little helpless, and like nothing's okay.

He doesn't talk. He just leans on Belle as she silently leads them over to the couch, and he folds into her and weeps. Belle doesn't push him, just whispers encouragement and love into his ears and soothingly runs her nails softly over his neck and back.

It's then that Belle realizes that it's never been about her fighting for him or he fighting for her individually—just like it's never been about them fighting _with_ each other. It has been—and always will be—Rumple and Belle fighting for each other.

* * *

_A/N: As someone who has battled/battles mental illness, I tried to get in Rumple's head as well as I could. I hope it was satisfactory. Please review if you feel so inclined! You guys are seriously AMAZING. Send a message or whatever just to say hi anytime. You're appreciated. _

_PS sorry for any grammar/spelling mistakes. _


End file.
